


Martian Demonology: Unearthly Compulsions

by TheoraThanatos



Category: Original Work
Genre: Aliens Are Bastards, Bizarre Alien Psychology, Dark Fantasy, I've spent too much time on TVTropes, Lovecraft Lite, M/M, Original Fiction, Original Slash, Our Demons Are Different, Outside-Context Problem, Paranormal Romance, Rage Against The Heavens, Uneven Hybrid, Urban Fantasy, crossworlds fantasy, dysfunction junction, horror-inspired but not really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2018-12-07 17:47:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11628681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheoraThanatos/pseuds/TheoraThanatos
Summary: Carthreed is a town on the verge of a supernatural crisis. That, or an unprecedented case of mass hysteria.Cory tries to keep his life on track after high school when his friends and entire family have left the town. Given the circumstances it seems wise to keep one's head down and not play the hero, but a sense of duty, along with a new friend and an old flame, put him back in the center of the action.Ethan knows there's something completely off with him but nothing from myth or legend explains his 'symptoms', and his quest for answers drives him into increasingly dangerous waters that not even Cory can keep him from.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of a 'pilot episode' type of thing to test the waters. If you happen to like it then please please let me know.

***

For someone who didn’t even exist, Ishtimus sure was the cause of a lot of trouble. Now, Iris Spencer found herself personally inconvenienced by him, as she was stuck on the second floor of an abandoned office building on a late Saturday night. Sunday, technically, as midnight had just passed. She had no hope of leaving unnoticed until the Ishtimus cultists downstairs were finished with their business, whatever it was.

From her hiding place in a small dark office she had a view through an interior window to the large lobby on the first floor, where the dark group was gathered, but she couldn’t hear a word of what they said. Unfortunate, since trying to eavesdrop on them was the exact reason she was there. She had arrived at the building over an hour earlier than the time specified by her informant, so she could scout the place and find a proper place for herself, but the first people started arriving significantly earlier than expected, and she was forced to retreat to the staircase that took her to the upper floor.

Using the dimmed light from her cellphone screen, she had made sure the couch in front of the window was safe enough to kneel on, and she had made herself comfortable there, using the holes in the broken window blinds to observe the new people coming in. She found it funny now that she had expected them to be wearing robes or something of the sort, but they were all dressed in dark nondescript urban clothing, most with hoods or hats on. Squinting at their faces and statures when they had all arrived, less than a devil’s dozen of them, she realized, with some disappointment, that most of them were probably teenagers. Whatever this was, it was not the type of cult gathering she was prepared to lose sleep over.

Since she was trapped there either way, she spent her time taking poorly-lit pictures and trying to figure out what the group was doing. At some point she had to consider whether they were conducting some ultra-modern version of a ritual, with all of them standing in a circle and their cellphones glowing in their hands. But it was more likely they were sharing information or coordinating plans, when she took note of their body language and how some of them exchanged items from their bags. By the end of it, it was almost unexpected to see them join hands and stand still in a perfect circle. Iris could see that the apparent leader’s lips were moving, but she couldn’t hear a sound.

She had no doubt in her mind that this was in fact a group of Ishtimus’ followers. One of many. They couldn’t all look respectable, she guessed. Or provide her with sensational content. There were others. The town of Carthreed probably had more demon-worshippers per capita than any other location on Earth. She didn’t know what to make of it yet, as she herself had only lived here for three months, but, reportedly, cult activity in the town had suddenly intensified from a certain point a few years ago. According to some, it was demonic activity itself that had intensified.

Her informant was someone she only knew by his online handle, FD388. She guessed he was a young family member of someone from the group. He hadn’t known what exactly would be happening tonight, just that they had planned a “super secret meeting of some sort”. They both had assumed it would be a ritual. But now the group was already leaving and the last one stayed behind and shined a light over the floor to make sure they hadn’t forgotten anything.

The small office Iris was in had another window in the opposite wall, this one with a view to the front of the building. When the group members had arrived, some of them had come on foot and the others in a total of four cars. Now she watched all of them pile themselves and their bags into just two of the cars and drive off. This had all been a prelude and the real action was to take place somewhere else, and Iris had no way to follow them. She sighed in disappointment and belatedly took pictures of the license plates of the two remaining cars. The light was terrible but since everyone was gone she had opened the window and used flash.

They would be coming back later, but for all she knew it could take hours and they might just switch cars and leave. Iris decided to call it a night. She kept silent when exiting the room and going downstairs, but still she saw it first before she heard it. There was movement in the lobby. She froze in place. All she could see from her angle behind a corner was a shadow, but then she heard it too. Footsteps. Careful, slow footsteps that didn’t seem to be going anywhere in particular.

After a minute, she quietly retreated to the dingy office to get an overhead view of the lobby again. She had considered just making a run for it -- after all it wasn’t so likely that this new person was desperate to follow her, much less hurt her. But fear had stopped her at the last moment. Somehow it was more disconcerting to be stuck here with a single creeping stranger than a whole group of them. Peeking through the blinds, she could see him in full. Although his loose hair went way past his shoulders, Iris assumed by his gait and physique that he was a young man, though it was hard to tell in this light and from this distance. Was he one of the cultists? Slept in and showed up too late?

He was dressed in all black like the majority of the group, but his style was less urban and more metalhead, plus he wore a scarf over the lower half of his face. The cultists hadn’t made an effort to hide their identities from one another. He didn’t seem to be looking for anyone, though it was entirely unclear what he was in fact doing. As much as Iris had seen, he hadn’t made a move to investigate the rest of the building, but was instead fixated on the area the cultists had actually occupied -- the center of the lobby and the chairs lined up to the side next to a wall. Iris realized with some horror that he might have been there this whole time, watching them just as she had. Had he seen her?

If he was looking for something left behind, he was doing a strange job of it without so much as a flashlight. After a few minutes, he removed one black glove, crouched down, and touched the floor with his palm fully against it. He stayed in that position for full minutes before trying the same at different spots. Iris felt better about her decision to avoid drawing his attention. The guy was a lunatic.

Iris had started taking photos again, realizing with a jolt at first that she had almost forgotten to switch the flash off.  After a while, he stopped, gave the place a last casual look-over and started walking towards the exit. He was almost out of her field of vision when he abruptly stopped in his tracks. A few seconds later, he turned quickly and surveyed the room again with a sense of urgency that he hadn’t displayed earlier, and walked back to the center of the lobby. Then, he looked up toward the far corners of the ceiling. Iris pulled her face further from the window.

When she tried looking again, the lobby appeared empty. She moved across the room to the other window, but there was no movement at the front of the building either. Perking her ears, she tried to listen for any sounds on the second floor; she had left the office door open when she came in the second time. There were no obvious sounds of movement. Iris felt a flare of annoyance. She dug out a small can of mace from her crossbody purse and stuffed it in the front pocket of her jacket. Now was a good time to make a run for it, because she was simply fed up with the situation.

She stepped to the door silently and made another effort to listen, then sped up and made her way to the staircase. After the last flight of stairs, she turned a corner and the main exit was in her sights. She strode towards it while keeping her eyes on her right side as the entirety of the lobby was going to come into full view. 

They startled each other at the same time. The stranger had been standing at a corner on her left side, possibly with the purpose of keeping an eye on the exit. Whatever the case was, she saw his widened eyes and how he had pushed himself away from the wall, and Iris quickly reached for the mace in her pocket. “Wait,” the guy said and reached out a hand. Iris didn’t wait. She fumbled with the can and aimed it toward him. By that time, he had moved closer and grabbed her wrist. Before she knew it, he had pulled her off her balance and knocked the can from her hand.

"Let go of me, you-- mmpf." He put a glove-covered hand over her mouth and held his other arm across her torso to keep her back against him. She had taken self-defense classes a few years ago but the specifics eluded her now. He was nearly a head taller than her, but it was easy for anyone past their growth spurt to tower over her. His frame hadn’t looked too imposing, but it became clear he was stronger than he appeared, and she didn’t have a lot of room to maneuver. 

"Stop it. Stop,” the stranger said, lowering his hand from her face to have a better hold on her, rendering all her efforts fruitless. At least he wasn’t doing anything other than trying to keep her in place, and she stilled for a moment. “We don't have to fight. I only want one thing from you."

She couldn’t keep the disgusted grimace from her face. "There's only one thing I can think of that I'd want to giv--"

He muffled her again for the moment, to add a clarification. "I meant the contents of your camera." His tone was unamused.

"I don't  _ have  _ a camera." She made another attempt to get out of his hold or to cause him some pain at least, and he briefly lifted her into the air to jolt her.

"Stop dicking around, we don't have all night," he said like he was merely annoyed. "Just take out your phone and show me the gallery."

"Will you  _ stop touching me_?" The situation was quickly getting repulsive.

"No," he said bluntly. “Do as I say.”

He let her move her arms enough to pull her smartphone from her bag and hold the screen in front of them. "Delete everything you have of me," he said when she had opened the photo gallery.

She opened over a dozen pictures she had of him and deleted them one by one. Some of them showed him touching the floor, and she could barely hold herself back from making a comment or asking a question. Finally a photo of the license plates came up, and she swiped forward to the last photos she had taken of the cultists. "That's all. These are from earlier. You're not in here."

She brought the screen closer to their faces and looked back at him, taking quick note of his features in case she needed to describe him to some police officer. He was likely a white guy with dark hair and dark eyes, a penchant for black kohl and a barbell piercing through the end of his right eyebrow. She guessed his age to be around twenty, likely younger.

His eyes were fixed on the screen. "Zoom in. Show me those."

She went through the photos of Ishtimus’ followers and zoomed in on their faces where they were visible. He asked if she knew who any of them were. She denied it and didn’t clarify anything.

Suddenly the screen brightened when she swiped past the last dimly-lit photo she had taken on the day and opened a selfie she had taken a couple days earlier in her sun-lit room at home. It was a portrait of her in all her blonde, brightly smiling glory. Iris quickly closed the selfie and went back to gallery view. “Oh, that’s all.”

The stranger made a sound of amusement and released his hold on her. “Was that you?”

She quickly stepped several feet away from him and nodded, embarrassed. It wasn’t a bad picture, but still. She locked her phone and looked up at him. He seemed to be considering something.

"Are you a journalist?" he asked.

She shook her head but then turned it into a shrug and added, "Something like that."

His expression turned serious. Then he made a heel turn and went for the exit.

Taken aback by his sudden switch from being an intrusive bastard, she blurted out, "I'm not a journalist."

Iris saw the stranger pull down the scarf from his face as he kept walking. "Pick up your pepper spray and go home. There's nothing else to do here."

***

This ominous weather would have been far more appropriate the day before. With the grey skies above and fog all around, Cory Harlow was up and awake a full hour earlier than usual this Monday morning, determined to get this one thing over with as soon as possible. Before he could talk himself out of it. Biking down the familiar suburban streets, he passed nice yards with nicer houses, though he noticed that one or two had fallen into disrepair since he last saw them.

He stopped at the gate with a ‘Dogs Inside’ sign. Not ‘Beware of Dogs’ like most other signs said. Just ‘Dogs Inside’. Polly and Moe weren’t a lot to be wary of, he knew, unless you had an allergy or something. Cory got off his bike and looked over the front yard, then up at the windows of the two-storied home. He hadn’t been inside since the end of March. Over six months now.

He dug out his phone from his pocket and started typing.  _ “Are u home? I need to talk to u abt smtng, I’m outside.” _ Simple enough, but presumptuous. He thought it over. _ “Probs shouldve asked before I arrived but I didnt think it thru_ ,” he added. He looked at the message for half a minute. It was terrible. His thumb hit the send button half-voluntarily, like it was a muscle twitch. It’s done now, he thought, no going back. A moment later, his heart rate went up.

He tucked the phone back in his pocket, breathed deeply and wrapped his arms around himself for warmth. He looked up at the windows just in time to see a curtain move. A few nerve-racking minutes later, he saw the front door open. Unexpectedly, it was Meredith standing there, a sweet blonde woman of about 30, currently in her pajamas and morning robe. She waved at him to come closer.

Cory hesitated for a moment before going through the unlocked gate. The straight concrete walkway took him up to the porch. He stopped in front of it, instead of going up the three steps. “Good morning,” he said, carefully.

Meredith smiled.  “He asked me to let you know he’ll be down in a moment,” she said in a friendly enough tone, but he couldn’t know what she thought of him these days. It was unlikely she had taken his side.

“Oh, I’ll. I’ll wait here.” He unnecessarily gestured at the yard.

She gave a nod and was about to turn back inside, but then stopped and looked at him again. “I heard about what happened at the church yesterday.”

Cory was surprised for a moment, but then collected himself. “Yeah. That. I was there. I mean, I saw it afterward. It’s disgusting.” Her curious expression prompted him to continue. “There’s graffiti inside and outside, garbage everywhere, and some sort of fluids I’m glad I couldn’t identify.” He grimaced. “I want to think it was just some degenerates having fun, but…”

“It’s scary, isn’t it?” she asked sympathetically. He assumed she knew what the graffiti said. How Ishtimus’ name was plastered over the church walls.

He inhaled deeply. He’d refused to let it get to him. “Pastor Gilgore looked depressed, and I mean super depressed. I’ve never seen him like that. That’s what scares me. Anyway, they got professional cleaners to take care of the graffiti but the rest is up to volunteers. It’s probably still a mess, people come over to stare but few people will actually help. I’m heading back there today after work.”

Meredith looked behind her inside the house, then turned back and leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially. “See if you can get Ethan to volunteer. He has too much free time on his hands.”

Cory couldn’t help but smile. He was in no position to make such requests of Ethan at this time, but he was glad she thought it was reasonable to suggest it.

Then there was movement at the door. Cory took a few steps back to give Ethan room to come forward; he didn’t think he’d be invited inside.

Meredith said a few quiet words to him before leaving and Ethan looked down at the floor as he listened.

When Cory had rehearsed for this conversation in his imagination, he’d pictured Ethan in his typical all-black outside attire, though he should’ve remembered that in the early morning he was more likely to catch him in grey sweatpants and a pullover hoodie.

Ethan came outside and closed the door behind him. His expression was unreadable. Now that he was turned toward him Cory could see what had been hidden by the fall of his long black hair -- a silver eyebrow piercing. That was new.

Cory had forgotten the beginning of his script. He was staring.

Ethan tilted his head. “Heading to work?” he asked then, nodding in Cory’s general direction.

Cory looked down briefly at his light blue uniform shirt. “Yeah, I wanted to stop by from here before that, that’s why I’m so early. I figured you’d be awake though.” He laughed nervously. “I work at Crendell’s, you know, the dry cleaners.”

“I know,” Ethan said. “I saw you there once.” He spoke in monotone, not breaking eye contact. “I was gonna pick up some of dad’s suits, but then I saw you behind the counter. Needless to say, dad’s been doing his dry cleaning runs himself now.”

That was more blunt than Cory had expected. “Okay,” he said. “I… It’s, uh…” Why had he imagined they’d just have an awkwardly polite conversation? “Sorry about the… inconvenience,” he finished lamely.

“I assumed you had something important to talk about.”

“Yes, I…” he started quickly but then faltered. It seemed necessary to acknowledge the tension. “Just so you know, it’s not easy for me to be here.”

Ethan didn’t miss a beat. “Good,” he said.

Or maybe it was better to get to the point quickly. Cory swallowed and looked aside to gather himself. “Have you heard about Carthreed Paranormal?”

Ethan furrowed his brows. “The ghost hunters?”

“Paranormal researchers, yeah. Two of them came up to the church yesterday. Started asking questions. And I was thinking you might know some things better than I do.” He started to feel alarmed about the fact that he didn’t really have a specific question. He should have come up with a more solid reason for coming here.

“About vandalism? You know I’ve got nothing to do with that,” Ethan said.

“No, I mean--”

“What exactly did you say to them about me?” 

“I just--”

“I don’t want them to think I’m interesting.”

Cory raised his hands in front of him. “No, no, don’t worry. I just said I know someone who might know better about the bigger picture. It was obvious the vandals were--”

“In what context did you say that?”

Beyond agitated by this point, Cory exhaled quickly, then closed his eyes for a moment to remember. “I think we’d just been talking about Winslow Gideon,” he said with half a shrug.

“Perfect,” Ethan muttered and looked aside, annoyed.

Cory didn’t think what he’d said was really a problem but he wasn’t going to argue that point now, if Ethan was determined on being upset with him either way. The two of them were far from being the only people who’d been trying to look into the weird happenings in the town, it wasn’t suspicious. It wasn’t a matter of being nosy, it was a matter of safety. Gideon had been a danger to everyone, for as long as he couldn’t find his real target.

The real target had been Ethan, but no one besides the two of them knew that.

“He was still alive last time you and I spoke. I never got an update on that. What happened?”

Wondering about the past distracted him from the tension and since Ethan wasn’t staring him down at the moment, Cory let his eyes wander. Ethan had his arms crossed over his chest, the sleeves of the dark grey hoodie going up to his knuckles. He looked cozy. Without really thinking, Cory took a step forward.

Whether Ethan was startled because he’d been looking away or he was consciously making a statement wasn’t clear, but he took an abrupt step backwards, his eyes wide and he uncrossed his arms. Cory similarly froze for a moment, staring back.

He took a breath. “Sorry, I just… I feel like I shouldn’t be yelling about this in broad daylight.”

Ethan didn’t relax. “Then keep your voice down. I can hear you.”

Cory shuffled awkwardly, but then looked expectantly at the other guy, waiting for his answer.

Ethan’s eyes were a warm shade of the darkest brown; in the past Cory had often felt like he could drown in the depths of them. His self-imposed separation from Ethan hadn’t changed how he saw him, Ethan still looked unearthly to him, even now in his early morning attire and his face free of make-up.

Ethan looked away first. “Nothing happened. He died. He’s not a problem anymore.”

Cory opened his mouth to speak, but he was still looking for words when his alarm beeped in his pocket, indicating that he needed to start getting back downtown.

“Listen,” he said. “I’m going to be at the Redeemer today after work, I’ll probably be meeting up with one of the, uh, paranormal research people, we’re still making plans. If you…” He paused and took a breath, considering Ethan’s expression, quite unreadable again. “You could come by. If you want. It’s not serious, we’ll likely just have a chat. They seem like friendly people. You can think about it. Let me know?”

“I don’t have your…” Ethan started to say, shaking his head, but then remembered. “I have your number. Right. You just texted me.”

Cory blinked. “You deleted my number?”

“I had to. Or I would have called you.” The same unexpected bluntness delivered with apparently no emotion. “I’ll come,” he said. “I’ll talk about demons. I won’t talk about us.”

“That’s fair,” Cory said, neutrally. He was exhausted, and didn’t protest when Ethan turned back to go inside without another word. His expression crumbled before he’d fully turned and his movements were fast and jerky, like he couldn’t get away from Cory quickly enough.

***

As it turned out, Iris didn’t have to wonder for long where the cultists had gone off to. The print edition of the  _ Carthreed Chronicle _ did not deem it newsworthy anymore to report on ‘minor’ instances of cult activity, but the web version published a story on Sunday about the thorough desecration of The Church of the Redeemer. Church vandalism seemed like a juvenile act to take part in but it made sense if the culprits were in fact juveniles.

The whole thing was, disappointingly, out of Iris’ zone of interest. She would have to record it in Carthreed Paranormal’s endless log of “paranormal-related” events, but that was possibly the whole extent of it. Still, she came back to the church on Monday late afternoon, since networking was the part of her job that she quite enjoyed.

She was currently talking to the congregation member she had met the day before. Cory had been more welcoming and helpful than the church’s employees, and she’d found their conversation pleasant and fascinating. The boy seemed to be very involved in the church’s proceedings despite claiming no particular position in it besides being a choir member. He was young; strikingly good-looking but a little awkward in conversation, though he made up for it by being a good listener. He seemed to have an affinity for wearing pastel colors, if the two outfits she’d seen him in were any indication, and he wore his brown hair in a neat short cut.

They entered the church together, its deliberately ascetic Lutheran interior looking considerably better than it did the day before, though there was still work to be done. There were cleaning supplies and trash bags about, and a few volunteers currently at work. A guy of around Cory’s age waved at them from a wall he was in the process of scrubbing. Besides rubber gloves he was in a black t-shirt and skinny jeans and his hair was tied up in a bun. Iris didn’t recognize him at first.

Cory seemed surprised. “Ethan, I…” He looked at the length of the wall. “How long have you been here?”

“Since noon or so,” Ethan answered in a casually joyous tone and passed the brush around in his gloved hands. He looked from Cory to Iris and back again. Iris thought she saw a barely perceptible look of acknowledgement in her direction.

“What, you’ve been cleaning this whole time?” Cory asked.

Ethan replied easily, “You know me, hours of stamina,” and looked away towards the cleaned-up wall.

Cory opened his mouth but stopped, a quick blush creeping up his cheeks.

Iris prepared to say something to break the inexplicable awkward silence, but a fourth voice interrupted her.

“Cory, can I have a few words with you?” Pastor Gilgore asked from the other side of a column of pews. “Are you busy?”

Cory snapped around to look at him, and the pastor squinted suspiciously at Iris and Ethan. “Uh…” Cory started. “Not extremely, no. Um…” He looked apologetically at Iris.

“It’s okay, you can go,” Iris said with an easy smile. “We’ll introduce each other.”

Cory seemed a little confused by how readily Ethan agreed with this suggestion, but hurried off to converse with the old pastor out of hearing distance.

Iris spoke first, with a nearly triumphant look on her face. “You know, you look about ten times less intimidating with your hair done up like that.”

The boy seemed to take this with good humor, but there was something defensive in the way he kept eye-contact with her, studying her. “And so you think you have the guts to wring some answers out of me.”

“I can say I feel safer in a church than I did in an abandoned building at night.”

“I’m not a believer, it doesn’t matter to me if I’m in a church,” Ethan said with the same calm tone and faux-friendly smile.

It sounded like a near-threat, but there was still room to set a good tone. Iris was determined on pretending to be open-minded about him. “Yet here you are, helping undo the sacrilege.”

“I’m just helping Cory,” Ethan said with a shrug and finally broke off the X-raying stare.

“You’re friends then, huh?” Iris asked, and then ignored Ethan’s complete lack of response. “Does he know what you were doing Saturday night?”

“And what was it that I was doing?”

Good question. But there was likely no useful answer to it besides lunacy, so she decided not to press it at this time. “I don’t know what you were lurking over there for, but you did assault me.”

“And you took pictures of me without my knowledge like a giant creep.”

Iris laughed despite herself. She’d never been described as a ‘giant’ anything.

“I wouldn’t say we’re quite even yet, but maybe we’ll get there,” she said. “I’m Iris, I work for Carthreed Paranormal, CPN for short. We try to keep track of cult activity, but that’s only because it’s easier than keeping track of demons.”

He gave her a puzzled look of amused suspicion, removed one rubber glove and extended his hand. “Ethan. I’m… just some guy, really. I guess Cory thinks I might have some useful info for you, but you probably already know more than I do.”

“Sure, sure, let’s go with that,” Iris said and shook his hand, and muffled clinking sounds came from somewhere in his rows of mostly leather-strip bracelets. “So, does he know? Can I talk about it openly?”

Ethan’s expression shuttered. “You can tell him. I don’t care.”

“About all of it? Including the… weird… floor touching?”

“Including the weird floor touching,” he repeated without a sign of embarrassment, but then continued: “We were both trespassing, I think you’ll want to keep this on the downlow. I trust Cory but not everyone else.”

Trespassing, of course. The building was effectively abandoned but presumably it still belonged to someone. She had decided not to post about that night on the internet without good reason, lest it only got her into legal trouble. But still, Ethan’s line of thinking was transparent. He had worried then about whether Iris was a journalist or not.

Iris sighed. “Look. One of my colleagues already knows the whole story and he thinks you must be psychic, but I wasn’t planning to publish it on our website just yet.” She said it like it was a joke. At that time it had felt surreal how he apparently realized out of nowhere that she had been watching him, but she knew there had to be some sort of an explanation for it. And she had to find out what it was. Not for CPN, but for her own sanity.

“Are you going to?” he asked.

“I feel like that would be detrimental to our relationship.”

He smiled. “And you care about that?”

“For now I do.” She didn’t quite mean to directly blackmail him but that’s how it came out anyway.

Ethan tilted his head. “Sounds like I should do something to appease you.”

Iris let out a nervous laugh. “I’m glad we’ve moved on from threats.”

Cory came back, wide-eyed. “Threats?”

“Here you are! Are you free tomorrow? I’d like to invite you both over to the CPN headquarters, we’ll have a proper sit-down and everything, I’m sure Tinsley will want to join too.” He’d want to see the ‘psychic’ with his own eyes.

Cory was silent for a moment, looking back and forth between Iris and Ethan, but Ethan entirely avoided his gaze and Iris was only looking at Cory, waiting for his answer. “I’m… are you really sure? I wouldn’t want to waste your time, I don’t know if I have anything to contribute. And I’m not free til after five or so…”

“After hours works better actually,” Iris assured him, “the boss will be gone. At this point I don’t want him overhearing us. Don’t tell anyone I said that.”

By this point, Cory was clearly confused on several levels. Iris continued: “It’s fine, really, a lot of what I do can be considered a waste of time, and talking to average locals is part of the job, to gauge what people believe and what their experiences are and so on, also one of our main purposes is to give help and information to concerned citizens.”

“Concerned citizens,” Cory repeated tonelessly and cast another look at Ethan who was still ignoring him. Less than five minutes ago he had basically admitted that he’d trust Cory with his weirdest secrets, but by everything else Iris would’ve guessed he wanted nothing to do with the guy. Had they ever been friends? They didn’t appear to have a lot in common. “Right. Yes. I can come, if you want,” Cory said.

“Great, it’s a date then. I’ll check in with Tinsley and I’ll text you with the details later, is that alright?” she asked, turning to Ethan.

“Perfect,” he said, pulling off the other rubber glove. “We’ll talk then. I should get going anyway, I’ve been out all day. You can continue from here,” he said to Cory, handing him the gloves and nodding at the wall.

Ethan pulled the tie out of his hair and started walking off to where he had left his jacket on one of the further pews.

“Wait,” Cory said, like he’d been taken by surprise by Ethan’s abrupt departure. He took a few steps forward and Ethan slowly turned around. “Can we talk?”

“About what?” Ethan demanded, his tone markedly harsh.

Iris looked from one to the other with some apprehension. The tension was so palpable she considered if she should intervene. Cory looked to the floor, licked his lips and subtly cleared his throat. Iris put on a polite smile. “I detect this is personal. I’m gonna go have a look outside.”

 

When it was just the two of them, Cory shuffled awkwardly but tried to indicate with his body language that he was going to say something. Soon. He just had to find the words.

“Did you--” he started finally, but Ethan promptly interrupted him.

“How’s your family?” he asked casually, crossing his arms over his chest.

Cory wondered if it was even a genuine question or if he was making polite smalltalk. Would they be talking about the weather next? “They’re fine. I guess. Away from here.” He paused but realized he should clarify. “Sold the house, moved to Trenton, all of them. Of course no one wants to buy homes in Carthreed for what they’re worth, so. They got a smaller apartment, there wouldn’t have been any room left for me.”

“And Kenny?” Ethan asked, referring to Cory’s older brother who had previously been living with them still.

“He got his own place, last I heard. Also in Trenton. It’s just convenient.”

Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Right. They could hardly afford to move, but they did anyway because it was more important to keep their children safe. All of their children, except you.”

“It’s not like that.” It was exactly like that. There was no outright disowning, but his parents’ attitude towards him had noticeably changed after they found out he had been in a relationship with Ethan. Their arguments were subtle enough that it was possible to interpret that they had objected to Ethan specifically because of who he was -- non-Christian and visibly a bad influence -- instead of simply because he was a boy. But at that point Cory had broken up with him already and had assured them that it wasn’t necessary to talk about it anymore. It had been imperative for him at that time to move on and stay stable and single and focus on school. “At least they waited til after I had graduated. Mom said they figured I knew better what was right for me. I could have left if I wanted to. I chose to stay here.”

Ethan shook his head incredulously. “What for?” Then his expression changed. “Don’t answer that. It’s none of my business.” He looked towards the exit.

Cory took a deep breath and wringed his hands around the rubber gloves, but maintained eye contact when he caught it again and continued the conversation determinedly. “I didn’t see you at the graduation.”

Ethan nodded. “That’s because I graduated in August.”

“Oh. What happened?”

“You know very well what happened,” Ethan replied quickly in a low, annoyed tone, but then looked down and raised one hand to indicate that Cory shouldn’t say anything. After a moment, he continued. “I’m not blaming you. I fell behind, I caught up, it’s not a big deal,” he said, and it almost sounded like a practiced line. “I have to go.” He turned and picked up his jacket from a pew and started for the exit.

“Thank you,” Cory said when he was still in talking distance, and continued when Ethan turned just enough to look at him. “For coming here. I appreciate it.” He gestured at the clean parts of the wall. “It’s the church, you know. The reason. Why I’m not leaving.”

Ethan kept looking at him for a moment. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, neutrally, and left.

 

Iris noted that there were some people around outside who probably typically didn’t hang around on church grounds. Among regular rubberneckers was someone in a police uniform in conversation with a tall black man in a long beige coat. The man was standing with his hands on his hips, and Iris could see a police badge on his belt. After a while the other cop walked off, and Iris looked around to see Ethan coming out through the church entrance. He gave her a little wave and they started walking toward each other, but then Ethan’s attention was caught by the man in the long coat, and he stopped.

After a moment, he smirked and walked towards the man. Iris, with some uncertainty, came just close enough to overhear them.

"What's a homicide detective doing at a scene of vandalism?" Ethan asked.

The man looked him up and down incredulously, pausing to think and barely concealing a look of amusement. "What's a heathen doing in a church?"

“Helping. With the clean-up. I’m being an upstanding member of the community.”

Iris was glad to see him in a humorous mood, the conversation between him and Cory must’ve gone well enough then.

“Out of pure altruism?” the man asked sardonically.

“Something like that. So what brings you here?”

“Work,” he said. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

“Well, hypothetically…” Ethan started, crossed his arms and stepped even closer to the man, “if I had a friend who had some potentially important information about what happened here, would you have interest in it or should they just take it to the police station?”

The man studied him suspiciously, long enough that Ethan raised his eyebrows expectantly. “The station is always open,” he said finally.

“Fair enough,” Ethan conceded, still smiling. “Just thought I’d check since you’re here.” He turned and started walking toward Iris.

“Mr. Cheramie,” the man called out after him. “Tell your friend to consider hurrying if they want to be useful.”

“Will do,” Ethan said over his shoulder, and then pulled out his phone when he got to Iris. “That’s Darryl Avery, CPD homicide or whatever. Let me give you his number.”

“I take it I’m the ‘friend’, then?” Iris asked, reaching for her phone in her purse.

“We’re not friends yet, but yes.”

“Yet? That sounds optimistic.”

Ethan ignored that in favor of showing her Avery’s number on his screen. “Here. You won’t have use for it this time but it won’t bother me at all if you find some other reason to bother him.”

Iris couldn’t help but laugh. “You know him?”

“No. Not as well as I’d like to, anyway,” he added with some humor.

Iris looked back towards Avery in the distance. He was attractive in the generic sense, and somewhere in his thirties. “He seemed to know you.”

“He badgered me with some questions a while ago. For a case of his. Someone I knew got killed.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Someone I knew. Not someone I cared about. He was a drug dealer. Someone made a spectacular work of art of his corpse, I’m guessing your organization has heard of it? Andrew Lynch. April, this year.”

Iris nodded slowly. “I’ll look that up. I wasn’t working here at that time,” she said and continued carefully, with a smile. “So. How many drug dealers do you know?”

Ethan broke out a grin but evaded answering. “You should probably take those photos of yours to the cops. If Avery was there then I figure they might be thinking it’s connected to some more serious cases.”

They were out of the church grounds now but continued walking in the same direction. “I didn’t think this town was big enough to have its own specialized homicide detectives,” Iris said.

“I figure it’s not the size of the population that matters, but the number of violent deaths,” Ethan remarked casually. “I hear it’s quadrupled in the last three years.”

Iris processed that and then stopped walking for a second. “That can’t be right. I’m gonna have to look that up.”

“Reigning theory is that it started when Gideon arrived here and brought his ‘demon’ hordes along, you’ve heard about that?” he said, complete with air-quotes.

“Not in those terms, but yes, I’ve gathered as much. A demon-worshipping serial killer showed up and everyone lost their minds.”

Ethan looked directly at her. “You’re a skeptic,” he said, like he himself wasn’t.

Most people were surprised to find out she was a hard skeptic, and then proceeded to ask if she was a tourist. “Before you ask, yes, I’m new here. Three months. What about you?”

“I was gonna ask what’s a skeptic doing working for a paranormal research organization.” There was an odd pause, and Iris wondered if he would ignore the question. “I moved here when I was fifteen,” he said finally.

“And you’re how old?”

A pause again, and he heaved a resigned sigh. “Almost nineteen. Listen, I think we can save this conversation for tomorrow, I’ve gotta run.” They said goodbyes and he sped up his pace; soon he was out of sight.

Three years, then.

***

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://theorathanatos.tumblr.com/


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's dysfunction junction time. (Fear not, I'm aware of what I'm doing to Catlyn. She's not a prop. Though she does get to suffer like other important characters.)
> 
> The choppiness was half-intentional because reasons, and half-"I-don't-actually-know-how-to-write". Send help. (Literally. The whole thing will need a rewrite (later) which means criticism is welcome at this stage. You can dole that out in private if you'd prefer, my social media links are at the bottom.) I'm largely going to avoid writing from Ethan's point of view in the future.

***

“I can’t tell if it’s your computer or your internet that’s slow,” Ethan said, lying on his stomach on Catlyn’s bed with her laptop in front of him, trying to open Youtube videos with varying success. After Iris’ invitation earlier that day, he realized it’d be wise to re-check what of the town’s paranormal events were common knowledge, what was news, and what was up to debate. People loved to debate on these things, especially those who had no idea what they were talking about. Catlyn herself was also a relatively good measure for what common people knew about.

“Spoiler: it’s both.” Catlyn wedged herself into the space between him and the edge of the bed and plopped on her back. “It’s not really meant for watching videos. The connection, I mean.”

“Huh. Is that why you read your porn instead of watching it?”

“ _Ugh_ ,” she said emphatically and elbowed him in his side, making him chortle. “And no, that’s not the reason.”

Catlyn Serafini was 100% Italian in comparison to his own 25% from his mother’s side. What the other 25 from his mom’s side was, he didn’t know. He first saw Catlyn in school three years ago; his best friend Jarvis couldn’t stop making eyes at her from across hallways. From a distance she had appeared confident, energetic, and brash, and it was no surprise at all that Jarvis, being the opposite of all that, felt too intimidated by her to admit his crush.

Things had changed in time. Catlyn and Jarvis had dated and broken up, Jarvis had gone to art school in New York, and Catlyn travelled to L.A. with some douchebag whose name Ethan couldn’t remember, with promises of work for her as an alt model. Things had turned sour quickly and she was back living in her hometown with her father and younger sister.

Ethan had found it surprising how easily he’d started to gravitate towards the girl after his other friends had left; he’d never really held her in high regard.  He’d had to admit at some point that she bore significant resemblance to his mother, but he banished that thought quickly.

He opened a video debate and skipped past the introductions to get to the interesting parts. With Iris and her colleague he’d have to act like he didn’t have anything important to hide; talking their ears off rehashing common knowledge might be a good strategy.

Catlyn flipped around and looked at the screen. “That old fart again? I’m starting to think you’re a fan.”

“Shh.”

She frowned dramatically. “You can’t shush me in my own home.”

The video showed three older white men sitting in a studio. The one with a medium amount of grey in his hair was speaking.

_ “I’m positive that what we’re dealing with here is mass hysteria the like of which has never been seen before.” _

_ “I would believe that,”_ the second guest said. _“That’s what I would have thought too. But no one so far has given me a rational explanation for the case of Winslow Gideon--”_

The first guest was shaking his head before he cut in.  _ “I know what you’re getting at and I already know what my response will be: you’re just as easily impressed as the rest of them. When every news outlet harps on and on in most sensational terms about a serial killer who defies all attempts to get caught while standing right in front of our noses, it makes an impression on your brain, you convince yourself something incredible must be happening--” _

_ “--if you would just let me--” _

_ “And suddenly he’s dead and no one claims credit -- more outlandish theories abound. We’re wasting time talking about demons when we should be figuring out how it would have been_ humanly _possible--”_

_ “--let him finish, let him finish,”_ the third man, the host, interrupted.

_ “As I was saying,”_ the first guest continued,  _ “you can’t just hand me the label of “mass hysteria” and expect me to be satisfied with that when we had dozens of people from local law enforcement and federal agencies suddenly debilitated on the job to catch this one specific guy, suddenly displaying various symptoms of “demonic possession” -- all of them healthy adults, largely male, largely with no history of mental illness or addiction, a lot of them atheists and non-believers, skeptics, and nearly all of them previously had zero faith in and some even zero knowledge of the occult theories that surrounded Gideon. You were absolutely right, Greg, this is something we’ve never seen before, the amount of high quality testimonies that we--” _

_ “No, no, that’s exactly where we’re making a crucial error. There are no high quality testimonies when it comes to this sort of thing. We’re all human, we all have faulty human brains, no one is immune to the effects of stress and excitement. And people lie, Jeremy, people lie. People lie all the time.” _

“I hate to be the sensible one here,” Catlyn said, “but maybe we should let that topic drop. Like obviously everyone  _ collectively needs to let the topic drop_,” she added with exasperation. “They say it’s mass hysteria and then keep hyping it up anyway, where’s the sense in that? Gideon’s been dead for months, it’s time to let it  _ go_.” At the last word she slided off the bed to sit on the floor. “God, I was so relieved,” she said to the ceiling.

Ethan was thinking about how to talk to the CPN members, what kind of impression to leave. Since Iris was a skeptic then it was possibly easy to throw her off and make her lose interest, and if he managed to act friendly enough then maybe she’d leave him alone.

“I can’t wait til this all blows over,” Catlyn said, still in the direction of the rest of the room, and played with the hem of her short skirt. “We’ll be the next Salem. The next Roswell, you know? All sorts of freaky tourist attractions. And I can say, yeah, I was here when it all went down. Had the nightmares and all, of Winslow Gideon climbing in through my window and pulling out my entrails.”

“Through the window?” Ethan asked absently and scrolled through another list of videos.

“But those fucking cultists won’t shut up,” Catlyn continued, picking up a previous train of thought. “Like, move on, your god is dead.” She rested the back of her head on the bed cover and looked up for a minute in silence, then added in a more morose tone, “Sometimes he scolds me for not minding my own business.”

“What?” Ethan turned to look at her. He’d been listening with half an ear but must’ve lost the plot somewhere.

“Gideon. In my dreams. Sometimes I’d wake up at night and I was a hundred percent sure it was me he was looking for. Me specifically. And it made so much sense in the dark.”

After a momentary pause Ethan said calmly, “It’s not you. You didn’t do anything.” They’d had this conversation before.

CPN seemed like an active and dedicated organization, as much as he could tell from their website. Could it actually be useful to build a good rapport with them?

He turned his attention back to the conversation. “I thought you believed in the demons,” he said, “in that case it wouldn’t help to just stop talking about it, right?”

“I prefer to remain deep in denial, thank you. I find that keeps me sane. No demons. Not real.” Catlyn stood up and eyed him suspiciously. “Are you really asking for my opinion?” She paused for just a moment. “Or are you trying to freak me out? Is that what you came here for? You’ve heard these talking heads,” she said and gestured at the screen, “me and my mentally ill, teenaged ladybrain are top targets for the forces of evil. Seems like I should make an effort not to freak out.”

“Which is why I would’ve preferred you staying in L.A. with that asshole instead of coming back, as much as I love having you here,” Ethan said tonelessly and continued scrolling.

“Are you kidding me? I think I’m safer here.” She paced the room, then crossed her arms and leaned against the edge of a dresser. “You’d know that if you had listened to anything I said about him,” she said more quietly.

Ethan realized he should have given more thought to what he’d said. He turned towards her. “You’re right, I’m sorry.” Catlyn only frowned at that and looked away.

He remembered something from the video that inspired another line of thought, and he sat up on the bed to actually look at her when he talked. “You know, I read somewhere that one of these cops or agents said that he was the only one in his group who didn’t get struck by ‘madness’ as he called it, when they were trying to raid a place Gideon was hiding at. But he had to retreat anyway ‘cause his colleagues would’ve put a bullet in him.” 

She groaned. “What does it matter? Is it really news now when someone  _ doesn’t  _ get possessed?”

“I’m just wondering if it’s possible to be immune.”

Catlyn made an exaggerated  _ ‘how the hell should I know’ _ shrug with her palms up, but then replied. “Obviously some people are more susceptible than others.” After a minute to think, she added, “And I guess some causes are more important than others. I mean, the demons typically go for easy targets but maybe they’ll try harder when they really have to. Like, it was important to keep Gideon safe, or it was just important to obey his commands or whatever. Am I onto something?”

He smiled. “Probably.” There likely wasn’t an easy answer as to whether the entities had their own agenda or took all orders from whichever occultist managed to control them. The Ishtimus cult from Saturday seemed more like they were the ones taking orders, but then again Ishtimus was a major entity -- more like a god than an otherwordly business partner like a lot of the others.

He thought back to Saturday and some of the faces he’d recognized. “Do you remember a Helena? From school?” Catlyn stared in confusion, possibly from the sudden change in topic. “That weird one, looked like she went from emo to scene to Wiccan goth in the space of two years.”

She laughed and uncrossed her arms, putting her hands on the dresser. “I know exactly who you mean. I thought she was cool.”

“I suppose you don’t know her last name?”

She shook her head. “No clue. Wasn’t she a year ahead of us? Probably not hard to find out. Why do you wanna know?”

“I… saw her last week. Just wondering what she’s up to, besides being in a cult.”

Catlyn’s eyes went wide. “Oh shit. Really?” Ethan’s phone started to ring so he grabbed it, and she must’ve realized she wasn’t getting a response. “I guess she’s not Wiccan anymore,” she mused quietly.

Ethan was staring at his phone, at the name he had re-saved just earlier that day.

After a good few seconds Catlyn came forward. “Are you gonna answer that or…?”

Ethan muted the sound with a push of the volume button but did nothing else. “Why is he doing this to me?” he asked with no inflection in his voice, still staring at the name.

Catlyn strode over decisively to sit beside him and look at the screen. Then she pushed a button to decline the call and he didn’t stop her. “There. Problem solved,” she said with authority and put her hand on his back. “You don’t have to be nice to him, you know, no obligation. Even if he’s all polite or whatever the hell, it doesn’t matter.”

He pushed the phone away from himself towards the computer and sat back at the other end of the bed, and listlessly continued to listen to Catlyn’s lecture, which she had probably learned for herself at some earlier point in the past. “People will insist that you gotta act civilized, but fuck that. Be rude if you have to. We do what we gotta do to keep ourselves safe, you know?” She touched his bare arm in what was probably meant to be an assuring gesture, but, coming from her, it also felt possessive.

The phone rang again.

“Jesus f…” He didn’t finish the thought as he lunged across the bed for the phone and forcefully pushed the answer button. “Yes?” he demanded, before his brain registered that he hadn’t seen a name above the number on the screen.

_ “Hey,” _ the female voice started with some hesitation, _ “this is Iris, Cory gave me your number. Can you talk for a minute? I was going to be polite and send a text since he said you declined his call but my hands are in some pain right now.” _

Ethan blinked and sat up properly. “What? Yes, I can talk. What’s going on?”

_ “I just wanted to let you know we might have to postpone tomorrow’s meeting, since I’m a little out of commission. I’m actually angling to get out of the hospital before the night falls, but I’ll see if I’ll have any luck with that.” _

The words didn’t quite process immediately, but then he pulled himself together. “Are you alright? What happened?”

_ “I got hit by a car on my way to the police station. I’m fine. The pavement took me like a shredder but most of the damage is on the outside, I should be back in order eventually.” _

“You got hit by a car,” he repeated. Her tone was strangely relaxed, even joyous. “How did that happen?”

_ “Well, it can’t have been my fault since I was on the sidewalk. The driver crashed into a wall after running me over and ran off from the scene, so I don’t know what’s up with him. I’m a bit high right now, don’t let me babble too much, I just wanted to let you know about the change of plans. I’ll contact you later, is that okay?” _

“Yes. Wait,” he said and pinched the bridge of his nose, “um, do you have someone to drive you home later? You won’t be alone?”

_ “I think I’ve got it covered, thank you.” _ She sounded amused. _ “And I won’t be alone, I have flatmates. Too many of them, really. Tinsley tried to convince me I might be in danger, you’re not agreeing with that, are you? It doesn’t make a lot of sense.” _

He took a breath. “You’re right. It doesn’t make sense.”

_ “He says the driver must’ve been possessed but if literal demons are after me then they could have just possessed me instead. Or they could do it easily now, in my current state of mind. Okay, I’m talking nonsense now. I’ll see you later.” _

When they finished the call, Ethan stared off into space for a while, then finally relented to Catlyn’s questioning and gave her a very vague and brief rundown of events.

He shifted and then faceplanted into the white and blue cotton of the top sheet. Sometimes it seemed like things might calm down, at least in his own immediate vicinity, but then someone he knew was in danger again.

“Are you okay?” Catlyn asked with a strangely bored tone, like she was unimpressed with his dramatics.

“We can’t live like this,” he said with a muffled voice.

“I’m sure  _ you  _ could afford to move.”

He pushed himself up on his elbows. “That’s not…” he started but then shook his head. He couldn’t begin to explain. Not to her.

But there  _ was _ someone who could understand.

“I have to talk to Cory,” he said to himself just as he realized it. Decision made, he clambered off the bed and gathered his things.

“What,  _ now_?” Catlyn asked, flabbergasted. “Are you sure you don’t want to think about it first? Maybe sleep on it?” She followed him out of the room and down the stairs. “Maybe try a phone call first?”

“It’s important.”

She threw her hands up. “Well okay then. Just don’t come crying to me when you get hurt again.”

They came across Catlyn’s stocky and mustachioed father in the hallway. Ethan ignored him. “I prefer crying at home, anyway.” The man scowled in disapproval, and Ethan ignored him harder.

“Okay, wait,” Catlyn said when he’d laced his boots and was ready to leave. “You might smell like bleach but I still want a hug.”

He wrapped his arms around her easily, though absently, and was soon out the door. When the breezy air hit him outside, he remembered he had no idea where exactly he had to go.

He pulled out his phone and wrote a message.  _ “Send me your new address.” _

***


	3. Chapter 3

***

At this point, Cory must have been desperate, since the sole reason he was still sitting in the living room was the chance that his emotionally distant flatmate might come out of his room and say a word or two at him. If Martin was the likeliest person he’d receive moral support from, then he really was alone.

Ethan had, quite obviously, rejected his call, and Beverly wasn’t even reacting to his calls or messages. Not that he’d left many, but still. She had been his best friend and purportedly still was, they had made promises to stay in touch even after she moved, but with every passing month Beverly became more distant. She would probably respond the next day with some explanations about forgetting and being busy and so on. Cory rested against the back of the couch and looked to the ceiling. It was time to accept it: his friend was moving on.

This would have been easier to deal with if he wasn’t terrified for the lives of people around him and completely lost on what to do. Encouraging and helping people to keep their faith strong and take care of their mental health could only go so far, it wouldn’t keep  _ other human beings _ from doing them harm. He wondered what exactly it was that had gotten Iris attacked. Was it enough that she had been present in the desecrated church? Or that she was asking around about cultists’ activities?

It couldn’t have been the simple fact that she helped CPN with promoting the idea that demonic activity was a real thing -- the demons loved attention, that much he knew already.

His second-hand Android phone pinged with a new message, and his first guess was Beverly. It wasn’t.  _ “Send me your new address.” _ It was from Ethan. Cory stared at the screen for a good minute. This was the last thing he expected from him today.

He quickly typed in his address and sent it off without comment. It was then that he realized he’d have to let Martin know about the impending guest. He went through the large, doorless exit and down the hallway, and stopped at Martin’s room. It was quiet in there. He turned around and went into his own room instead.

If Ethan suddenly wanted to talk to him now then he must’ve meant business. Demons and whatnot. Not their personal business. For the longest time now, Cory had wanted to give him a proper explanation for his decision to call off their relationship -- if he justified himself well enough then surely there wouldn’t be such hard feelings -- but it was far too late to bring it up again. Or far too early, now. He’d have to calm down and focus, and remember his role. He wasn’t the ex-boyfriend, he was a friend.

He looked down at himself, at his comfortable home clothes. After unsuccessfully trying to convince himself that it didn’t matter what he looked like, he took off the fraying and loose shirt and changed into a more presentable though nondescript light grey t-shirt. He patted down his hair, telling himself that making some effort to look decent for a guest was a normal, mature thing to do.

It wasn’t too long until the doorbell rang. Acting casual, Cory stepped aside right after opening the door. “Come in,” he said and backed away as Ethan came in. “You’re staying for a bit, right? Do you want something to drink?” He was already back in the living room to go to the joined kitchen.

“Whatever’s fine.”

Entirely prepared to make a cup of whatever, Cory made himself busy at the kitchen counters.

After knocking off his boots, Ethan came and stood in the middle of the living room, looking around. Cory wondered if he had any reason to feel self-conscious about his new home. At least half of the interior looked old-fashioned or in need of some touch-up, but this place was neat and humble and, most importantly, affordable. Also he didn’t know Ethan to be the snobby type.

The electric kettle started to make a low rumbling sound as the water in it heated. Cory prepared two mugs with sugar and fruity tea bags in them.

“Nice place you got here,” Ethan finally said, without much hint in his tone about whether he was earnest or not. He went and sat on the couch. “I wanted to talk about your ghost hunter friend.”

Cory felt a strange sort of relief, and he rested his hands against the counter. He had started to fear it was fruitless and nonsensical to worry about a near-stranger, but now he felt free to voice his concern. “Is she in danger now?” he asked directly. He assumed Iris must have called Ethan meanwhile and told him what happened. “If I at least knew how to avoid endangering others, that would-- We should’ve kept the church closed off until it was cleaned up. I was so deep in my fake optimism and denial I didn’t realize how bad it was for others.” The words kept flowing and he let them, intending to make sense of them as he went. “The church staff, they were all so... demoralized, I was surprised they even managed to organize the clean-up.” Pastor Gilgore had hardly even participated in making decisions or directing action, he’d been too upset. It was a disturbing switch of roles when Cory found  _ himself  _ assuring the pastor that everything would be alright. “I didn’t want to give the vandals more credit than they’re worth, but they clearly managed to...” The kettle switched itself off with a snap and the rumbling quieted down. “...fuck something up on a supernatural level,” he ended in a defeated tone.

Ethan tilted his head, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “If you want to pause and breathe a little, I’ll tell you why exactly it’s not your fault.”

Cory opened his mouth to speak, but then he heard Martin’s door open.

“Cory?” he heard the guy’s voice before he appeared at the living room doorway. “Who was at the--? Oh.” Martin stood there holding a bowl and wearing an oversized sweater and an unhappy expression. He stared at the stranger lounging comfortably on his couch. “Hi,” he said, lowly.

“Hello.” Ethan smiled widely and scanned Martin from head to toe. Martin frowned.

He went to the kitchen sink and dropped his bowl there. “A little warning would have been nice,” he said to Cory.

“Sorry,” Cory said, abashed. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Next time, please bother me.” He said it quietly, though clearly not caring much that Ethan heard him. He went back to his room after another brief, suspicious glimpse at the visitor.

“Is he always this nice or am I getting special treatment?” Ethan asked after they heard Martin’s door close.

He likely didn’t take it overly personally, but Cory guessed he would file it away as further evidence that regular people didn’t see him as a normal human being. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault, I should have told him to expect company.”

“Is he your replacement for Bev? How much do you miss her?”

Cory was taken aback for a second. Why would he--? Oh. Cory sighed. “They have literally nothing in common besides being Asian.” And short. “And I do miss her a lot, thank you. Martin and I aren’t friends exactly, we barely talk,” he said, keeping his voice down. Their conversation likely couldn’t be overheard, but ‘likely’ wasn’t good enough if they were going to discuss things of a certain nature. “We should go to my room, I think.”

“Would I like to see your bedroom? Yes, yes I would,” Ethan said, smirking, and came forward to pick up his cup of tea.

Apparently he’d upgraded from cold bluntness to impersonal flirting. Cory wasn’t sure if it was a good thing. He took his cup, ignored their proximity when Ethan passed him, and went for the hallway.

“So, did Iris tell you yet?” Ethan asked from behind him. “I actually met her first on Saturday.”

“Huh?” Cory tried to put the events in order in his head while avoiding spilling hot tea on himself as he walked, and remembered the strange way Ethan and Iris had talked to each other when he first saw them together earlier that day.

“Very late on Saturday. We were staking out the same cult meeting at the same time.” He said this in a regular volume while barely a few feet away from Martin’s room, and Cory fumbled to quickly open his own door and step inside.

He walked across the floor to his desk and didn’t say anything until Ethan had closed the door after them. A hundred questions crossed his mind and he didn’t know where to start. “That… went well, I hope.” It wasn’t entirely surprising, now that he thought about it. Their interests obviously overlapped.

Ethan set his own cup down on the nightstand that wasn’t far from the door, and pulled his jacket off by its sleeves and threw it on Cory’s bed. “She almost maced me and I might’ve bruised her ribs, but sure--” he was already laughing, “-- that went well.” He plopped down on the floor with his back against the bed, and stretched out his legs. He looked starkly foreign among the bland and mild colors of the room, and it matched Cory’s perception of how strange it was to have him there.

Cory gaped at him. “You what? What did you do to her?”

Ethan suddenly looked uncertain. “No, I-- You saw her later, she was fine. And she doesn’t even hate me, funnily enough.”

He proceeded to give Cory the basic details of where they were at and what they’d been doing. Cory noticed how Ethan purposefully skipped over the explanation for how he knew about the cult meeting in the first place, but he knew Ethan had his sources and Cory had more important questions lined up.

Cory didn’t entirely approve of him lurking around and trespassing in potentially dangerous places, but at least it wasn’t a crime scene this time, and it was good to hear that Ethan had carried on as usual after their break-up. Gathering information on the demons and their activities in an effort to understand their real nature and motives, was about the only thing he took seriously.

Cory took his desk chair and moved it closer to the center of the room. He was still in a considerable distance from Ethan when he sat down, but now it was easier for Ethan to face him without turning his head to the side. Before Ethan got to explaining what exactly caused the skirmish between him and Iris, Cory interrupted him. “Wait, this was the same Ishtimus cult? The people that vandalized the church?” It seemed so obvious suddenly, but he would have expected Ethan to start with that fact, not treat it like it was a minor detail.

Ethan shrugged, but he seemed wary. “Well, probably. I didn’t know where they went.”

“You didn’t hear anything they said?” Cory asked, incredulous.

Ethan heaved a resigned sigh but his tone turned apologetic. “I didn’t know which church they meant. They had no reason to name it out loud because they already knew, okay? I had no idea.” After a small pause he added, more harshly, “And I didn’t do anything because I  _ didn’t care_, is that alright with you?”

It was a rhetorical question, of course, and Cory bent forward to rest his head in his hands while trying to avoid saying something that would start an argument.

He noticed Ethan bent forward as well and tilted his head to catch Cory’s gaze or to study his expression. He said, more softly now, “I’m just one person, what could have I done? I wasn’t going to run after their cars at full speed just to prevent some graffiting. You think I should’ve?”

Cory would have laughed at that mental image if he hadn’t felt so… disappointed. “You could’ve still called the police,” he finally said, when he was sure enough he could keep the accusation out of his voice.

“The police are useless.”

Cory didn’t want to shout so his exasperation came out in an aggressive whisper. “The cultists are only human beings!”

“They’re  _ protected_,” Ethan shot back. “Did you just forget what happened to Iris?”

Cory deflated again and rested his elbows on his knees. The situation was hopeless. Did Iris really get nearly killed by a possessed man just for snooping on a minor cult, who presumably didn’t even know about her? If this was how things worked then there was no end to how cautious everyone would have to be.

“I’m sorry about what happened to your church. If I had known, I might’ve done something. I guess I just assumed they’d pick a Catholic church, those are more obnoxious.”

That made Cory chuckle, though he felt bad for it. He noticed Ethan smiled at him before he turned and reached over to take his cup of tea from the nightstand. He sipped at it for a bit and then asked, “Can I get to my point now? The thing I actually wanted to talk about?”

“Please, go on.”

“So, I tried to read their tracks after they left, but that went as usual.” He paused, looking off into space and tapping a finger against the tea cup. “Maybe I was trying too hard. It’s really starting to seem like the harder I try the less it wants to work. But when I don’t care or I’m not even trying then it works whether I want it or not. So...” He smiled then, widely, and closed his eyes for a moment. “I was just about to leave when this… this thought, it hit me like a train. Suddenly I just knew that even if I left, then in some sense I would still be there. Not in so many words, that was just the first half a second of the thought. Then it clarified. It meant that it wouldn’t be a secret that I was there. Not just that someone saw me but that there was evidence.”

He looked at Cory, probably to ascertain that he hadn’t lost the plot yet. “I was right, of course. Completely right.” He went on to explain that Iris had taken pictures of him like she had of the cultists, and he made her delete them. Cory was alarmed to hear of how he’d treated her, but Ethan must’ve thought that since he had had no real intention of seriously hurting her then it wasn’t a big deal. He finished the story and went back to describing the psychic flash. “It was amazing. It was so clear. I didn’t even have to wonder if I was just thinking to myself and making assumptions.”

“That’s, that’s good. That’s great,” Cory stuttered into the ensuing silence, realizing he wanted to say something supportive. He wasn’t sure what the difference was between this and what Ethan had already experienced before, and couldn’t really relate, but obviously it meant something to Ethan. Apparently there were degrees of intensity to  _ knowing  _ something.

Ethan nodded slowly, staring into space right ahead of him. “I’m starting to wonder if it actually helps to make a hard effort at first and then to just let it go and wait. Kind of like shooting an arrow. And I guess I can probably call it claircognizance instead of psychometry. It still seems like touching helps to direct my focus, though.” He was smiling but then it turned into something more like a grimace. “If it doesn’t happen again soon, I’m gonna lose my damn mind.”

“It’ll happen. You’re making progress,” Cory said.

“Speaking of progress, there’s something…” Ethan started but then trailed off, lost in thought. After a moment, he laughed. “I forgot. I can’t believe I completely forgot. I’m sorry, I’ll spare you. I wouldn’t want to overwhelm you with my weird bullshit.”

Cory furrowed his brows, but then he understood. He remembered.

“No, don’t worry, it’s fine,” he said awkwardly, knowing full well that Ethan wouldn’t just accept that.

“Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”

“It’s completely fine,” Cory insisted. “And it’s not bullshit, it’s important.”

“Not any more important than it was before.” He still sounded calm, somehow.

Cory felt his heart rate rise. He wrapped his arms around himself and licked his lips before he spoke. “A few things have changed since… since Spring. I can handle more stress when I don’t have to worry about getting my homework done.” There was so much more he wanted to say, to make sure that Ethan understood, to make sure that he didn’t take it so personally. But it wasn’t the right time. Every further word would leave more openings for arguments, and Cory was afraid Ethan would push him into admitting, again, that being in a relationship with him had been overwhelming in one too many ways.

He wanted to be able to talk to Ethan in a civil manner, without hurt feelings getting in the way. Hadn’t Ethan said that very morning that he didn’t want to talk about their relationship either?

“Some things haven’t changed,” Ethan said. “I haven’t changed. Everything that was wrong with me then is still wrong with me now.” He said it clearly and surely, keeping his gaze locked on Cory, as if challenging him.

He couldn’t have meant it. People change in time. He of all people would’ve been proud of maturing, of being better. Cory swallowed, but then said, steadily, “It’s okay. Nobody’s perfect. I’m not here to judge you.”

Ethan shook his head incredulously. “You sound like someone’s therapist.” He blinked. His expression changed. “Right. Of course. It’s not really your problem anymore.” He relaxed against the bed, casting sidelong glances at Cory. “Are you gonna tell me we can be just friends?” he asked with some humor.

Cory sighed slowly and closed his eyes. “I don’t know.”

Ethan’s fake smile disappeared, like it wasn’t the answer he expected.

Cory went back to his desk to pick up his tea and stare out the window; they drank in silence for a little while.

Finally Ethan spoke, in a bored tone. “My sleeping phase has gotten three minutes shorter meanwhile, if that’s exciting news.”

Cory turned to look at him. “It’s still getting shorter?” The guy barely slept three hours each night. Like clockwork, too. It was straight-up freaky, though Cory wouldn’t say that out loud.

Ethan clearly already had something else on his mind; he gave a vague nod, then squirmed impatiently, bending one knee and bringing it close to his chest. “How much longer am I going to ignore it? This…  _ knowing_, whatever it is, it always works better when those entities have been involved. Their presence helps me. What does that imply about me?”

Cory froze for a moment. He recognized where this was going. Ethan seemed hellbent on trying to find proof for the lies that his mother had fed him, that there was something inherently wrong with him. Cory put his cup down and came forward, carefully. He sat down cross-legged on the floor close to Ethan.

“Maybe that’s just how these things work, all “paranormal” things are connected to each other. Maybe they just… exist on the same type of level, like radio waves or something.” That had to make some sense, surely. As far as they had gathered, the demons came in varying sizes, and masses of them flew around in swarms like insects -- they could be anywhere. If Ethan was able to read whatever ‘wave’ they were on, he was likely to pick up their knowledge. And demon-worshippers presumably had some of these swarm-demons around them at any given time.

“Or, alternatively, me and the demons spawned from the same level of Hell and they can recognize a homeboy.”

Cory had to laugh. He was thankful at the moment that Ethan had absolutely no inclination to actually believe in Hell as such. This was the first time in a while that he had even heard him refer to the demons as ‘demons’ instead of ‘entities’.

“Listen to yourself. You already know it’s not a rational fear.” Sitting this close, his attention was caught by the new piercing again. Cory became overly aware of his own breathing, and trying to keep it steady felt like hard work. But he kept looking.

It would’ve been so easy to reach out and touch his face. Cory clasped his hands in his lap to make sure he kept them to himself. “Hey, listen…” he started, when Ethan wouldn’t look at him.

“Do me a favor and sit further away if you’re gonna say soft words at me,” Ethan said, not unkindly, keeping his gaze away.

Somehow it hadn’t occurred to Cory that the proximity would affect him too. Cory realized he’d have to control himself better to avoid sending mixed signals. He wasn’t attempting to get back together. He stood and went back to his chair.

“Nevermind, forget it,” Ethan said. “I’ll just have to figure it out. Test it out more.” He took in a slow breath, considering something before he spoke. “If you were wondering, trying to get a read on the church wasn’t the only reason I came by from there. If it had been, I would’ve just come and gone.”

Cory nodded slowly. “I wasn’t wondering.” He looked around. “Do you think you could read my room?” he asked then.

Ethan seemed surprised. “What, you want me to?”

Cory paused with uncertainty. It felt like he had asked something different entirely. “Yeah, for, you know, safety?” Suddenly he wasn’t sure if it even made sense.

“I’m not exactly an antivirus, but I can try,” Ethan said, pushing himself up off the floor. “And I guess that must help a little,” he said with some reluctance as he nodded at the small wooden cross on one wall.

He looked about himself, then moved to the door and put one hand against the door frame. After a minute or two, Cory realized he should stop staring at him, and took his chair back to the desk. He sat there and waited as Ethan quietly made his way around the room.

When Ethan had sat for a minute on Cory’s bed, one hand on the board at the foot of the bed and other hand on the bedcover, he suddenly had a mischievous smile on his face. “So, what’s his name?” he asked.

“Whose?” Cory asked automatically, but he had a feeling about where this was going, and it amused him.

“The last guy you were seeing,” Ethan said, still playing it casual.

Cory gave him a disapproving stare, though he couldn’t keep the smile off his own face. “Knock it off. You’re bluffing.”

“Am I?”

“I haven’t brought any guys in here, if that’s what you mean.”

“Oh, so where then?”

Cory sighed sharply. “You can stop if it’s so boring.”

Ethan looked at him. “Do you want me to stop?” He said it with such a tone and faux-innocent expression like he knew very well it’d remind Cory of very different contexts where he’d asked the same question.

Cory felt his mouth go dry. “I said you  _ can_,” he said stiffly, and swiveled around in his chair. He opened his laptop on the desk and pretended to be busy while Ethan continued walking around his room.

After a while, Ethan came to stand in front of the window, though he had already read the window pane once. He crossed his arms and looked out at the street.

Cory stood up with some hesitancy and went to stand beside him. He wasn’t sure if he should refrain from interrupting, but Ethan spoke before he could.

“It doesn’t feel great, to try and fail.”

“It’s not a bad thing to--” Cory had automatically raised his hand and put it on Ethan’s shoulder. He removed his hand quickly, put both hands in his pockets, and continued with the same tone. “It’s not a bad thing to try and fail. You’re learning. About what works and doesn’t work.”

“I sure am learning about what doesn’t work.”

Before they could say anything else, they heard Ethan’s phone ping with a new message. He went over to dig the phone out of his jacket pocket. When he opened the message, his scowl was quickly replaced with a smile. Cory was willing to bet the message was from either his father or Meredith.

“One second,” Ethan said as he started typing a reply. “It’s Dad. He’s gonna keep checking up on me til I’m 30, I’m sure.”

Cory thought back on the day. “You didn’t go home after church?”

“I went to Catlyn’s.”

“Catlyn?”

“She’s back in town.”

“Yeah, I noticed that. From her Facebook posts. I just didn’t--”

“Facebook?” Ethan looked up at him, wildly amused. Of course. He wasn’t much of a Facebook person. “Jesus. I forgot you two are friends on there.”

“Yeah, she probably adds everyone she meets,” Cory replied, feeling awkward. “So, um, you guys are getting along?”

““Getting along.” Jarvis and Henry are gone. And you were... you know. I had to settle,” Ethan said, looking back at his screen.

It wasn’t until now that it really occurred to Cory that Ethan’s closest friends had left town too. He had known about it when Jarvis had left in the Summer, when Henry had left, but he never really considered how Ethan might have felt about it.

But all he said was, “I hope you haven’t said to her that you “settled” for her.” He wasn’t a big fan of Catlyn, but still, it didn’t feel like a nice thing to say about someone.

“She knows,” Ethan said easily and locked his phone.

Cory decided not to pursue the topic. “Have you eaten recently?”

Ethan looked up at the ceiling, apparently trying to remember but then dismissed the thought. “I’m fine. It can wait. I’ll go home from here. Speaking of which, I think I’ve said all I wanted to say.” He stuck the phone back in the pocket and put the jacket on.

Cory stepped closer, almost involuntarily. He hadn’t managed to convey what he felt, but it was imperative that Ethan heard this before he left. “I hope you know you can still trust me. You can tell me about these things. It’s okay.”

The coldly calculating look that Ethan passed over him was almost intimidating. It took some effort of Cory to stand his ground when Ethan came closer -- he seemed almost angry, but that’s what he looked like when he was thoughtful. Ethan raised a hand and brought it up to the side of Cory’s neck, just slowly enough that Cory could’ve pulled back in time. He didn’t.

It was a test; it wasn’t a touch of affection, even if it felt like one. Cory looked aside and forced himself not to react any further. He continued talking like nothing was happening. “I just wish I could be more useful. In general. But I guess I’d rather not face literal demons.”

Ethan dropped his hand. “You’re immune.”

Cory’s gaze snapped back up at him. “What? Did you just--?” He touched his neck, like he could read himself like Ethan just did.

“From possession, anyway,” Ethan said casually and stepped away.

“Since when?”

“Who knows.” 

He turned for the door.

“Ethan, wait.” He had sensed it, a difference in the atmosphere. He knew at this point Ethan was very intent on leaving as quickly as possible. Cory took a steadying breath, and spoke without wavering. “I know you probably don’t want to hear it from me right now, but… I care about you, okay? You can come to me if you need to talk. I want to help.”

Ethan studied his face for a moment, but all he said was, “Sure.”

***

**Author's Note:**

> Any comments are welcome any time. Also, come talk to me:
> 
> http://theorathanatos.tumblr.com
> 
> http://youhitlikeamilkfedcatamite.tumblr.com
> 
> https://twitter.com/TheoraRedivivus


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